But she felt his lax figure become rigid. Lucy looked about confusedly. But escape to where? She thought of the ships that sailed from the peninsulas to hot deserts where spices were traded. There was nothing in his manner to suggest the misery of the preceding night. Her mother brewed potions to scent her hair, sweet balms of anise for her lips and hands, told her wonderful secrets, some decidedly un-Christian. ‘Ah, yes? To what do I pretend?’ ‘That,’ Gerald said regretfully, ‘I have not yet been able to fathom. . “I wouldn’t. Now it occurred to him that to show her the sealed letter would be a better way. “Yes?” “You remember once, how we talked—at a gate on the Downs? We talked about how a girl might get an independent living.
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